


the singer may change but the song stays the same

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: The Wicked + The Divine
Genre: Gen, Transformation, goes AU at the end of issue 5, spoilers for issue 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Luci’s last packet of cigarettes is still sitting there in the drawer of her bedside table, where Laura's parents can’t see it. Laura isn’t sure exactly why, but something prompts her to open the drawer and pull out the box, stuffing it into the pocket of her jacket.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Then – and only then – Laura takes a deep breath, centres herself, puts on her best fuck-you expression and prepares to leave the house without a word to her parents.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Later, she thinks that maybe that moment was the beginning of something.</i>
</p><p>If Laura didn't light that last cigarette at the end of issue 5, things could have gone differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the singer may change but the song stays the same

**Author's Note:**

> _I feel like this should be longer, but I can't think of anything else to add. I might edit it later if anything occurs to me. Also, I don't know what Luci's real name was, but someone in another fic used the name Ellie Rigby - I don't know it that's canon or not, but it's awesome. So I'm going with that._

It takes Laura a while before she’s willing to leave the house, but eventually, Laura hits breaking point and just snaps. The media is still out there, waiting for her, but Laura eventually thinks, _fuck it_. Why should she let a bunch of vultures prevent her from living her life? This huddling inside, doing nothing but thinking about Luci’s death over and over again is pathetic. Of course Laura is torn up about it, _of course she is,_ but there’s a limit on how long you can spend avoiding everything before you stop acting like a reasonable person and begin acting like a sad drama queen.

“I’m going out,” Laura announces, getting up off the couch where she’s spent the last few days watching TV – seeing Luci’s face and her own over and over – and hiding away from the world.

Laura’s sister appears in the doorway.

“They’re still out there,” she points out.

“I don’t care.” Laura pushes past her, walks down the hallway to her own room. Laura’s sister follows.

“But–”

“Did I ask for commentary? I said I’m going _out.”_

“Maybe you should ask Mum and Dad, first,” her sister says from behind her. “You know they’re upset enough as it is–”

“And is that supposed to be my fault?” Laura narrows her eyes at her sister.

“I didn’t mean it that way!” her sister protests.

“Whatever,” Laura says, opening the door to her wardrobe and pulling out something that looks half-decent. Might as well dress up, if she’s going to be the centre of attention anyway.

“But Laura –”

“Go _away_.” Laura glares until her sister leaves. Then she shuts the door, and gets changed.

When she’s done, she grabs her purse, ready to go, and then hesitates.

Luci’s last packet of cigarettes is still sitting there in the drawer of her bedside table, where Laura's parents can’t see it. Laura isn’t sure exactly why, but something prompts her to open the drawer and pull out the box, stuffing it into the pocket of her jacket.

Then – and only then – Laura takes a deep breath, centres herself, puts on her best _fuck-you_ expression and prepares to leave the house without a word to her parents.

Later, she thinks that maybe that moment was the beginning of something.

* * *

As expected, reporters and photographers swoop down on Laura the moment she steps outside, shouting questions and comments. Laura ignores them all, pushing through the crowd and heading for the nearest bus stop. The media vultures follow.

“Will you give a statement?” one of them bellows, and Laura pauses, letting the crowd surge around her, falling quiet as they see that Laura is prepared to answer. She is so sick of this bullshit.

She pins the speaker with a long, scathing look, and says, “You people got a statement off me when I was still covered in blood and in shock from seeing someone’s head _explode_ in front of me, and you’re still not happy? I guess everything Luci said about the media was true.”

That sparks another round of shouting.

“Were you and Luci friends?” someone else yells.

Laura thinks about that, about the way that Luci died, and the fact that in the end, it was her own kind that brought her down and killed her. No sympathy. No understanding. Just grim satisfaction at having been given the excuse.

The only one who was with Luci to the end was Laura, and she was more of a devoted fan than a friend.

“In the end, I don’t think Luci really had any friends,” Laura says, and turns away, knowing that her words will be broadcast the world over.

Probably the Pantheon will hear them, too.

Laura finds that she doesn’t really care. She continues walking to the bus stop, and hops on the first bus going into the city, while behind her the media vultures push and shove to follow her into it.

* * *

Laura gets a coffee, and goes to the National Portrait Gallery. Some of the media vultures try to follow, but are stopped by security at the doors. Laura continues inside without her unwanted retinue.

Laura stands and stares at the portraits searching for familiarity, for answers – she doesn’t really know. Something.

She stares at Lord Byron’s face for a long time before she finally leaves.

* * *

Laura catches hell from her parents when she gets home.

“What, did you want me to just stay home forever?” she demands.

“Laura, we know you’ve been through a lot–” her mum begins, and Laura slashes a hand through the air in a negating gesture.

“You know _nothing_ ,” she says.

“Don’t speak to your mother that way–” says her dad, and Laura shakes her head.

“You don’t get it,” Laura says. “It isn’t over. Do you think people are going to forget? Luci was a _superstar_. Being dead, the way she died? Is only going to make her _more famous._ Ten, twenty years from now, people are going to still be talking about it, and I’m still going to be the only one outside the Pantheon who was there, right at the middle of it. People aren’t going to forget me. So I’d better start getting used to it.”

Laura’s parents stare at her like they’ve never seen her before.

“Laura, we’re just worried–” her mum tries, but Laura storms down the hallway to her room, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it.

She can hear her parents’ worried voices, but they don’t try to come after her.

Laura sighs, and reaches for her iPod. Usually after a fight like that she listens to one of Amaterasu’s albums, but after what happened, Laura can’t bear to listen to her anymore. Instead she selects Luci’s last album, waits until her smoky voice starts to sing, and closes her eyes.

She still has Luci’s pack of cigarettes in her pocket, and thinks about lighting one up.

She doesn’t.

Instead she pauses the song she’s listening to, cutting off Luci’s voice abruptly, and scrolls through artists and songs until she reaches the Rolling Stones _Play With Fire._

She lies on her bed for a long time, listening to the song on repeat, until its lyrics seem embedded in her brain.

* * *

It doesn’t surprise Laura all that much when Amaterasu shows up. She was expecting someone from the Pantheon to, after her comments to the media; who better than Luci’s so-called best friend?

Not that Laura’s bitter about it, or anything.

“What are you doing here?” Laura demands. She’s on her way to class – the media vultures have finally stopped following her everywhere – and Amaterasu has simply stepped beside her, without the usual entourage around.

“I never wanted Luci to get hurt,” Amaterasu says. “But she went too far. She broke the rules–”

“She was the divine patron of rebellion and revolution,” says Laura. “Of course she broke the rules.”

Amaterasu bites her lip.

“I told her not to do it. As long as she was in jail, she was _safe_.”

“She was in _hell_ ,” Laura says, and feels bleak satisfaction when Amaterasu flinches. “She was alone and abandoned. Lucifer, cast out into the pit. And you’re surprised she broke out? You could have done something, Amaterasu.”

“I couldn’t,” says Amaterasu.

“She was your _friend!_ ” Laura is raging on the inside, but is pleased that somehow she keeps her cool. “She was your friend and you abandoned her for being who she was.”

“It wasn’t like that–”

“That’s exactly what it was like, _Hazel_ , and you know it,” says Laura. “Now leave me alone. I have a class to get to, and I’m going to be late.”

Laura hurries her step, half-expecting to be exploded or something. But Amaterasu just stands there as Laura walks away, her expression forlorn and full of guilt.

Laura feels no guilt at all.

* * *

Time passes. Laura finishes the semester, passing all her classes. By now her classmates have gotten used to her again, although she still gets the occasional question about Luci. At home things aren’t bad, either; the media vultures are long gone, and Laura’s parents are more worried about her younger sister’s constant mood swings than Laura, these days.

It should be a good life. It isn’t.

There’s a barely-quelled rage in Laura, a thirst for change. She’s so sick of what her life has turned into. That week and a half when she was almost Luci’s friend – ignoring the shitstorm that came after – was the best time of Laura’s life. Then it all turned to shit, with Luci’s death and the media circus and the fact that no one seemed to _care_ that Luci didn’t deserve what she got. Everyone just turned on her without a second thought, even the people who were meant to be on Luci’s side.

Well. Laura’s won’t make the mistake of trusting the Pantheon to look out for any interest’s but theirs, even at the expense of one of their own. She saw what happened to Luci. There’s no such thing as justice, and Laura was a fool to think there was.

Luci’s almost-friendship – was there a word for that? – was the best thing that had ever happened to Laura. She wishes she could have given Luci something back, in the end.

So Laura simmers on the inside, even as she quietly goes about her life as though nothing has changed.

In November Laura gets two requests for interviews – one is from a TV show doing a special episode on the lives of the Pantheon, the other from a TV crew doing a documentary on Luci’s life and death. Laura turns down the first one, but accepts second.

“The moment that judge’s head exploded, everything changed,” Laura says into the camera, when asked about it. “Luci went from being on the top of the world to being in her own personal hell. Everyone turned on her, even the people who were supposed to be her friends. Even the rest of the Pantheon refused to lift a finger to help her. Everyone assumed she was guilty. The only one who didn’t was me.”

“Do you still think Luci was innocent?” asks the interviewer, off-screen.

Laura shrugs.

“Does it even matter anymore? Luci didn’t get justice. She didn’t even get a fair hearing. Everyone decided whether she was guilty or not the moment the judge was killed. It could have been another member of the Pantheon; anyone else with power over fire could have done it. No one even investigated, except for me. No one cared. And I think that’s more important than whether or not Luci actually did it.”

“You made a statement some months ago, saying that in the end you didn’t believe Luci had any friends. Do you still stand by that?”

Laura leans forward.

“Amaterasu found me, after everything that happened,” she says. “She tried to make excuses for why she didn’t try to help Luci, despite being her closest friend. But that’s all they were, excuses. Do you know, she didn’t even go to visit Luci in prison? None of them did.” Laura shakes her head. “If Luci had any friends, they were only there for the good times. If you ask me, a real friend is there when you need them. And none of Luci’s friends _were_.”

“But you were there,” the interviewer says.

For the first time during the interview, Laura smiles. It’s a sad smile.

“Yeah,” she says. “I was there.”

* * *

“You have some nerve,” says Baal, two days after the documentary is released.

Laura sips her coffee and raises an eyebrow at him.

“For telling the truth?” She smiles. “You might be gods, but even you have rules. As Luci proved, when she broke them. After what happened to her, I bet none of the rest of you dare.”

“You think you’re so special, huh?” Baal sneers. “Just because Luci sent you out to do her dirty work. News flash: you’re nothing special. She only had anything to do with you at all because you were _there_.”

“Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?” Laura wonders. “You think I don’t know what Luci was? Of course I do. That doesn’t change the fact that I was, as you said, _there_. I saw what most people never get to see. If that doesn’t make me special, nothing will.”

Baal glowers.

“You watch yourself,” he warns.

“I will.” Laura pulls out the packet of cigarettes from her pocket. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a light?”

Baal leaves in a huff. Laura smiles, and puts the cigarettes back in her pocket.

* * *

The documentary gets a lot of attention, and Laura finds herself back in the spotlight. It’s not so bad this time. Laura knows what to say, now, how to react to questions, even the ones she doesn’t want to answer.

Someone sets up a fan page for Laura on Facebook. Her tumblr has several thousand followers. All of them want to know the truth about what happened to Luci, whether she was innocent or not, whether the Pantheon really abandoned her. They hang on Laura’s every word.

Laura starts feeling like she’s started a weird cult.

Laura begins posting vines again – something she hasn’t done since Luci stole her phone and posted that vine to her account – some of them about Luci, answering the questions people ask, and some of them just about random stuff. Sometimes Laura posts little snippets of songs she’s written, and those do well, too. When Laura starts posting to Youtube, her fans follow her there, as well.

Before long Laura is an internet sensation, something between a BNF and a star in her own right. It’s not just about Luci anymore: people like Laura’s music videos, the songs she writes herself.

When Laura gets a call from a record label, wanting to sign her up, Laura only feels that she should be more surprised.

* * *

Laura has sung before – she had singing lessons for three years, thanks to indulgent parents. Her voice was never bad, even before she had training – her voice was fairly melodic and she had almost perfect pitch, and her vocal range was reasonable.

But the first time Laura performs at one of her own gigs, she gets up on that stage, and _sings_.

The moment the first words break from Laura’s lips silence begins to fall, people turning to look at her, and Laura feels herself become larger than life under their gaze, as more and more people stop everything to listen, Laura’s voice rolling out effortlessly across the entire room. It’s not Luci’s smoky voice or Amaterasu’s soaring tones, but something in-between, something raw and strong and full of fire.

The crowd are silent, enraptured, caught up in the moment.

And for the first time, Laura realises who she has become.

* * *

When Laura walks into the room, the Pantheon goes quiet.

“What are you doing here?” Baal demands.

“Peace, Baal,” says Ananke, fixing keen eyes on Laura. “She is as welcome here as you are.”

“ _What?_ ” says Baal, comically indignant, but Laura only smiles.

She still carries Luci’s last packet of cigarettes in her pocket. Now, as the Pantheon stares at her, she gets it out of her pocket, and extracts a single cigarette.

She snaps her fingers, and watches as the end of her cigarette lights up with an orange glow. Takes a drag of the cigarette under stunned gazes.

“You can’t kill an idea,” Laura says. “Rebellion and revolution never die, not really. They’re only reborn somewhere else, in someone else’s heart. The fire never really stops burning.”

“It is good to see you, Lucifer,” says Ananke, and Laura turns on her.

“ _Don’t!_ ” she snaps. “Don’t you _dare_ stand there and tell me that, after what you did to Luci.”

“But if you’re Lucifer –” says one of the other gods. Laura grits her teeth.

“ _Lucifer_ was reborn,” she says. “But Ellie Rigby died that day. And for that, I will _never_ stop being angry.” She takes a deep breath. “So, this is my warning to you. Watch your step. Because I will _always_ be waiting. Sooner or later, the rest of you will fall, and I will see it _done._ Even gods must die, one day. And I will be there when you do.”

Laura turns and strides from the room. No one tries to stop her.

* * *

When Laura moves to a bigger, better apartment, it takes time to unpack her things. She leaves one box until last.

Eventually she unpacks it, and stares down at the contents – the three albums Luci released before her death, a heap of Pantheon merchandise from before Laura stopped being a fan, and a poster with Luci’s face on it.

She’s smirking in the poster, that knowing, wicked smirk that Laura got to know well in the week and a half when she and Luci were almost friends.

It’s been almost a year and a half since Luci’s senseless death, and Laura stares at the poster for a long while.

Then she pins it to her bedroom wall, as a reminder.

 


End file.
